The Film
by hazelmom
Summary: McGee becomes the unwilling participant in a film.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As so often happens when I involve myself in a big story (Esperanza), I need a little something-something to cleanse my palate before the final act. This has been rolling around in my head the last couple of weeks, and so if I can get it down, I can get back to work on the last two chapters of Esperanza. _This is scary._ Inspired by the Stories that scare even me challenge on NFA. This story should have a four chapter arc. Tell me what you think. Sheila

Dedicated to my supernatural/horror hero, Lia (DNAchemLia), my inspiration for characterizations Mad (Fingersnaps), my slash and humor inspiration, Amber (Precious Pup), my romance inspiration, Carolyn (Emerald), and to the best McGee writer not currently posting, LadyTwyla (Marysia). You and so many others help feed this passion of mine and I am eternally grateful. There are so many others I have yet to name.

**The Film **

Chapter 1

The digital camera surveyed the forest floor catching the first fallen leaves of autumn. He took a moment to adjust the settings so the picture was sharp. It was a new camera, and like so many men, he loved to tinker with it. He played with the advanced settings of the audio. This had the potential to be one of his best films and he wanted it done right.

Satisfied that everything was ready, he panned the camera over to the subject of his film. The man lay in the pile of leaves where he'd fallen. It was so perfect. The oranges, reds, and yellows of the ripe Maple leaves provided a gorgeous backdrop. The man himself was looking up at him, breathing hard. His arms were restless as he tried desperately to seek relief from the pain in his gut.

The filmmaker zeroed in on the hunting knife buried in his subject's gut. He panned slowly so his audience would have an exquisite shot of how deeply the knife was buried. To bury a knife that well required commitment and courage. Most killers just picked at way at their victims like they were a block of ice. He stopped the camera's movement and focused in on the stain of blood spreading out from the wound like an inspired Rorschach. The man's hands kept approaching the knife, trying to figure out a way to manage the situation, but he was in so much pain that any attempts to touch the knife or the wound sent him reeling.

He zoomed in on the man's face. He was young and delicately featured, almost like a woman. Only his thick brows and the thin lines around his eyes told a story of a hardworking man. There were tears on the man's face from the excruciating pain, and he grunted odd noises as he tried to manage it.

The filmmaker knew a few things about his subject. He was an NCIS agent, a member of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs' team. He was the youngest and his specialty was computer forensics. The filmmaker couldn't have been more surprised when he caught the young man trotting down the trail to his hideout.

The surprise had quickly turned to excitement, and he crouched in wait, his favorite hunting knife clutched in his hand. A good hunter has grace in motion, and the filmmaker prided himself on the economy and purpose of his movements. He planned his steps out in his head, and when NCIS boy was within reach, he took two steps forward, swiveled, and planted the knife while the kid was still fumbling for his gun.

The young man kept trying to roll, his eyes on the gun the filmmaker left for him on the ground 15 feet away. At first, it had been amusing to watch his ambitions, but then he realized that the young man was increasing his risk of an early end with his movements, and the filmmaker hoped that he might have a good two-three hours with him. He put the camera down for a moment. Then he grabbed the cuffs from his utility belt and stepped forward, his feet on either side of the NCIS agent. The young man suspected this was the end, and he began to huff like a bull. The filmmaker ignored him, catching his hands and cuffing them together after a brief struggle. He pulled the cuffed hands over the man's head, and pulled out another knife. Sure he was going to be stabbed again, the young man screamed, "No!" as the filmmaker plunged the knife deep into the dirt, creating a hook for the cuffs to rest on. Then he stepped back and surveyed the picture of the agent with a hunting knife in his gut and his hands secured above his head.

He turned and pulled the tripod out of his duffle. "I need you to relax now. You squirm too much and you'll bleed to death too fast."

"Go to hell!" Spat the agent.

The filmmaker chuckled as he picked the camera up and set it on the tripod. "I think you'll get there before I do."

"I'm a federal agent! It's the death penalty if you kill me."

"You're NCIS agent, Timothy McGee. You work for Special Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I thought we might film something special for him and my friend, Agent Fornell."

"No, no, no," he said, looking like a boy now as he shook his head side to side.

The filmmaker adjusted the lens once more, confirmed that the camera was running, and stepped to the side. "I thought I would ask a question or two before I turn the camera on," he lied. "I want to make you a little proposition."

"Not interested." McGee let out moans periodically from the pain in his belly.

"It's a chance at life for you. Certainly worth a try, don't you think?"

McGee rolled his head to the side and looked away.

"Your team got involved in this case because Fornell suspected I was a Marine. Things got wild a week ago when I sent Fornell one of my films starring his daughter, Emily. I never touched her, but I was able to give him a beautifully shot film of her in her bedroom, in the bathtub, and on her way to school. She's a lovely child with surprising intellect. I would like to shoot another small film with her as the star."

McGee snorted but said nothing

"It's very simple, McGee. You tell me where the Emily's safe house is, and I get up and walk away. Can't give you your phone, but you'll have a chance. Hikers come down this path all the time. All you have to do is stay still until someone comes by. I'm not going to hurt her. I just want another movie. I know there are agents watching her so there's a good chance I won't be able to get close enough at all. It's a win-win situation for you."

McGee closed his eyes, and the filmmaker watched him closely. It was a bad deal, and he had no intention of letting him live, but when people thought they were dying, they got desperate. The filmmaker wasn't even that interested in Emily. She was too young to be much fun. Children froze like little statues when terrified, and they couldn't be revived. They didn't know how to bargain and beg like adults. He'd made the original film about Emily because he wanted to show off his skills as a hunter, and because he knew Fornell would eventually choke to death on his rage over it.

This wasn't a real offer; it was just good filmmaking. McGee would have a chance to show his true character, and it would add nuance to the film. The filmmaker leaned over. "This is your chance, McGee. I know you have family who would be devastated. In fact, I believe that there's a certain Forensics Scientist who would be destroyed if you turned up dead."

McGee's eyes popped open. The filmmaker thought the green photographed beautifully.

"All I need is an address and you live. It's the deal of the century."

He turned his head to the filmmaker and softly said, "No."

The filmmaker smiled. It was poignant and sweet, and there was no hesitation. The best Hollywood actor couldn't have delivered a line that well. Gibbs and Fornell would see this moment, and the pain of losing McGee would be further punctuated by his heroism.

"McGee, I respect your decision. In fact, I was hoping that you would turn me down. It makes for better drama. Let's make a movie. I have some questions for you."

McGee rolled his head away. "Not playing."

The filmmaker delivered a swift kick to his side, and McGee's torso rose for a moment in agony, and he howled like an animal. The filmmaker waited until McGee's cries softened. Then he spoke gently to him. "I don't want to have to hurt you like that again. Timothy, we are making a film and you are the star. I will ask questions and you will answer them. It will be a good-bye for your friends and family. Of course, if you would prefer that I kick you to death right now, I can do that."

McGee just stared at him, sweat beading all over his face.

"Let's start again. I know some things about Gibbs. He's a strong team leader and he has rules. His team always does fieldwork in pairs. Why are you out here alone, Special Agent McGee?"

"I'm not alone," McGee said.

"You're lying, and I will punish you for that. Do you want to try again?"

McGee focused his eyes on the filmmaker. "My team is closing in."

The filmmaker aimed for the same spot and kicked. This time McGee got out only half a scream before he passed out cold. The filmmaker knelt down checking his pulse to make sure that McGee stayed healthy enough to finish the film. McGee's pulse was weak but steady. If the filmmaker paced things right, he could have McGee for another three hours. He waited another few minutes and then gave his cheek a sharp slap. McGee's eyes blinked open.

"We are making a film, McGee. If you lie, you die. It's as simple as that. If you want to hang on in hopes of rescue, you have to answer my questions. Understood?"

McGee nodded slowly.

"Why are you out here alone?"

"I screwed up."

"What does that mean?"

"I made a mistake. I was trying to fix the mistake."

"Gibbs was angry at you."

"He had every right to be."

"What about Ziva and Tony?"

McGee stiffened. "What about them?"

"Why not bring one of them? Surely, Gibbs didn't tell you that you weren't allowed back up."

McGee looked away.

"Do you want to be kicked?"

McGee flinched. "I made a mistake. If I went with Tony, he'd ride me the whole time about it, and if I went with Ziva, she would feel…sorry for me. I wanted to be alone."

"Tell me about your mistake."

…..

His head popped up when he was hit, and he was confused by the wetness he felt. It wasn't a hard blow to the back of the head, and so he knew it wasn't blood. Then he spotted the coffee cup rolling around on the floor below him, and he smelled the coffee dripping down his face.

"Awake now!?" Gibbs thundered.

Abby was there, eyes wide. He sat up remembering he'd been working in the lab with Abby. He'd been analyzing the last torture film from the serial killer Fornell called The Filmmaker. They'd been doing work on the periphery of this case for a couple of months when Fornell was sent the film of Emily in the bathtub. He went ballistic. It became a chain reaction when Gibbs found out. Now, they were working the case 24 hours a day.

McGee wiped the coffee off his brow. "Sorry Boss."

"Sorry! Eight women dead and he could be targeting an eight-year old girl for his ninth, and you can't stay awake for two hours. Fornell is supposed to be here in ten minutes and I don't have a damn thing to show him."

"Gibbs," Abby said. "It was wrong to throw coffee at McGee. You could've really hurt him."

"It was tepid," McGee offered in Gibbs' defense.

"Now is not the time, Abby."

She persisted in a low, even voice. "He needs more sleep than you do, and he was working all night on this, and I always defend you, no matter what, but you were wrong to do that."

McGee slid off the stool. "I can get a report ready in…15 minutes."

Gibbs turned on his heels and stormed out. Abby went to Tim. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

McGee pulled away. "Stop fussing. I need to get to the bathroom and clean up. Can you print out what I was writing before I fell asleep?"

….

The elevator wasn't going to be fast enough so he took the steps three at a time to get to the bullpen. He burst through the door and narrowly avoided two agents. Then he slowed to a trot until he got to the bullpen. DiNozzo and Ziva were standing. Tony looked at him. "What the hell did you do? The Boss came up here so mad I thought he was going to put a fist through the wall. Fornell showed up and Gibbs told him that we didn't have anything. The two of them went to argue it out in the conference room."

McGee sagged. "I fell asleep."

"Damn Probie, you picked the wrong case to get all human on us."

"I have a report. I should go in there."

Tony cocked his head. "Does the report actually say anything?"

McGee swallowed. "Not really."

"Then save yourself the spectacle of stuttering over a whole lot of nothing."

"I can't believe I fell asleep."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. No one can keep up this pace," Ziva said.

"Boss can and so can you."

"I had a few bat naps last night."

"Well, if you had a video to analyze, you would've stayed awake."

Gibbs appeared around the corner, Fornell following him. McGee stepped forward and Tony winced. "Boss, I have a report for you."

"Did you finish the analysis?"

"No, I need more time."

Gibbs walked up to his face. "We don't have more time. I told Fornell that my people can get things done. He trusted us with this, and you made me into a liar. Go down and get the tapes. Fornell is taking them. He's got a team of people ready to work on this, and you can go home and get some sleep."

McGee closed his eyes and for a moment, they all thought he might argue, but he slowly nodded and headed back for the stairs.

…

The filmmaker watched him closely. "Gibbs was cruel to you."

McGee snorted. "The irony of you saying that to me…is wild."

Instead of kicking him, the filmmaker laughed. "Good one, McGee. Still, you have to admit that he's a tyrant."

"No, I don't. I have learned everything from him, and he was right to be angry with me."

"I need honesty, McGee. You're overcompensating because you know he'll see this."

McGee rolled his head back and forth on the crisp leaves. "He's truly the best teacher I ever had. And he's a man of great conscience and courage. I believe that with all my heart."

"There are rumors out there that he murdered the man who killed his family."

"Justice is justice. I have nothing more to say about it."

"You're about as loyal as they come…sort of like a dog. People love dogs but they don't respect them, and when dogs are gone, it's not hard to replace them."

McGee gave him a hard stare. "I like dogs."

"You're a smart dog, McGee, but Gibbs will find another dog, and you'll be a distant memory. How long will it take them to forget you?"

He won't forget me.

"Are you ready for me to twist the handle on the knife in your gut?"

"No!"

The filmmaker straddled him again. "It's part of the film, McGee. When I revive you, you can tell me why Gibbs is a good man."

"Please don't!" McGee howled as the filmmaker grabbed the hilt and gave it a quick twist. His scream was bloodcurdling, and for a while, he writhed as his body struggled to handle the agony.

The filmmaker stepped back, and took the camera off the tripod to explore McGee's pain from different angles. For several minutes, he reveled in McGee's performance. It wasn't as uninhibited as a woman's, but it was filled with McGee's desire to survive and overcome.

The camera was returned to the tripod when the filmmaker decided that McGee was ready to talk again. "Gibbs threw hot coffee on you. Explain to me how he's a decent man."

…

McGee walked into Vance's outer office, and nodded to Pamela. "I'm here to see the director."

She waved him in. McGee walked in and saw Vance, Gibbs and Abby sit at his conference table. Vance gestured for him to sit. McGee was immediately uneasy.

"Agent McGee, your supervisor brought to my attention events that transpired this morning in Miss Scuito's lab."

McGee nodded. "I fell asleep while working on a case. I missed an important deadline. I plan on asking Dr. Mallard to help me explore safe medications that might help me when caffeine fails."

Gibbs shook his head. "Drugs are not the answer, McGee."

"Nothing illegal. I just need to function better when we work all night."

"You have not been brought here to answer for your exhaustion which is completely understandable when you are on your 2nd night without sleep. You're here because Gibbs assaulted you with a cup of coffee this morning."

McGee frowned at Abby. "I told you it was okay."

"Miss Scuito did not report Agent Gibbs to me. Gibbs did."

"I don't understand."

Gibbs sighed. "I reacted badly this morning. It was inexcusable. And the first thing you did was to defend my actions. I get frustrated, Tim. I yell and I've slapped the back of your head. It's arguable whether or not, that's hostile workplace behavior, but you've always tolerated it. What happened this morning is not something you should ever tolerate."

"I understand why you did it, Boss. You've been under a lot of pressure with this case, and I disappointed you."

Gibbs shook his head. "Leon."

Vance looked at McGee. "Someday, I picture you with your own team, McGee. You're a helluva' agent. I want you to imagine that you are a team leader and ask yourself under what circumstances it would be allowable to throw a cup of coffee at one of your team members."

McGee said nothing.

"You can't come up with an instance, can you?"

"No sir," McGee said softly.

Gibbs nodded. "I have to have limits, Tim, and you have to have them too. We both learned that lesson this morning."

"Would you like to press charges, Special Agent McGee? Miss Scuito can act as your witness."

His face reddened. "No, I just want to drop it."

Abby looked teary.

"Well, it is my prerogative as director to take action. I won't suspend you, Agent Gibbs, because we need to find this asshole, but I am docking you one month's pay, and requiring that you attend 8 hours of training on hostile work environments. Understood?"

Gibbs nodded. "Got it."

"McGee, I am ordering you to go home for the day because you're working impaired due to the lack of sleep you've had."

"I want to stay and help, Sir."

"Come back tomorrow fresh and ready to go, McGee. That's an order."

McGee got up and headed out. This was more upsetting than getting hit with a cup of coffee. He headed down to the bullpen, and angrily stuffed his backpack. Tony watched him. "What happened up there?"

"Boss is losing a month's pay."

"Because you got cold coffee on your head! I can't believe you filed a complaint! What's wrong with you?!"

McGee swung the backpack over his shoulder and brushed past him. DiNozzo grabbed his arm. "Hey McGee, I'm talking to you!"

Ziva jumped up and got between the two of them. "Stop it!"

Tony ignored her. "You're supposed to have his six, McGee! It's how this team works."

"DiNozzo, let go of him!"

They turned to see Gibbs striding toward them, red-faced. Tony let go of McGee's arm. Gibbs rubbed at his mouth in an effort to quell his emotions. "All of you go home now! Nobody is allowed back in this building until you've had at least seven hours of sleep. Understood?!"

Everyone nodded but nobody moved. Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Get out of here already!"

DiNozzo and Ziva grabbed their things and started for the elevator, but McGee stayed rooted in the bullpen. Gibbs shook his head. "You need some rest, Tim. We all do."

"You didn't read my report."

"You said you didn't complete your analysis."

McGee winced as if trying to remember something. "We need a botanist."

"What?"

"A botanist- one who's an expert on the local fauna. There has to be one at Georgetown. It's the moss in the videos. Something about the moss. I hike a lot on the weekends. I don't just hike. I play games…I mean, I imagine that I would have to survive without anything but the forest around me. I bring books. I identify plants and things. Fornell's team says that they think the filmmaker killed in Sky Meadows State Park, but, um, I've been all over that park. I've never seen that moss there…and I pay pretty close attention…" He blushed. "It's a geek thing."

Gibbs studied him closely. "Where have you seen that moss?"

He shrugged. "Parks higher up, parks that are closer to the Alleghany Mountains. I think this moss is found in higher altitudes, but I can't be sure. It's not my science."

"What do you think this means?"

"He drops them at Sky Meadows because he wants to protect his killing grounds, and I think he does that because he knows them real well…like his hunting grounds. Knows it like the back of his hand."

"I'm going to call Fornell." Gibbs headed for his desk.

"I don't know enough, Boss, but I know we need a botanist."

…..

"You hesitated. You're leaving out something that happened after you left Vance's office."

The pain in McGee's gut was overwhelming. He tossed his head back and forth, unable to find relief.

"You left something out!"

McGee looked at him with feverish eyes. "Yes."

"You left out the thing that brought you here. How did you find me?!"

McGee shook his head.

"You want me to twist the knife!"

"Do it."

What did you say?!"

"Do it. I'm done…movie is over."

"It's a film, you bitch, not a movie!"

"It's over." McGee closed his eyes.

"We have so much to talk about. The film needs a final act. I can't post this film unless we have a final act." There was almost a pleading tone to his voice.

McGee's eyes popped open. "Do you want me to say good-bye to my friends? Will that be a good final act?"

"Be poignant. Look into the lens."

He lifted his head slightly. "I'm sorry, Boss. I wasn't careful…Ziva, your kindness and your beauty is often the best part of my day. Tony…I love you even when you drive me nuts. Deep down, I trusted you most of all…Please don't let Abby see this. That would be-"

"Everyone should see this, McGee. Films are meant to be seen!"

McGee sighed, his eyes drooping. "Boss, tell her I love her. Take care of her for me…We shared a love of so many things especially botany. Tell her to keep up the study without me…I love all of you…Talk to my family…Tell them only good things."

The filmmaker hesitated. "Botany? What's that all about?"

McGee's eyes were like slits. "I'm a geek. Sue me."

"You really believe that you have a place in their hearts?"

"Yes." His voice was sleepy. "I worked hard and I always tried to do the…right thing. That has to count for something…doesn't it?"

"McGee?"

His head lolled to the side and he went still.

The filmmaker's voice was soft. "None of my previous films ended like this. They were usually much more dramatic. That happens when faced with the duplicity and evil found in most women, but McGee was different. There's a heroic quality to his demise, one that I respect. The end."

The filmmaker turned off the camera, and slowly packed up the equipment. Usually after his kills, he'd pack the body back to his truck and dump them at Sky Meadows, but this time he felt differently. This body didn't desecrate his hunting grounds. This body was like that of a kindred spirit- almost a brother. He would leave McGee here, cover him with leaves, and return to visit. Animals would tear at his flesh but that was part of nature. It was an honorable way to leave this world.

He wanted to linger but there wasn't time. He needed to find McGee's vehicle and drive it down to Sky Meadows. They'd tear that park apart this time. Gibbs was going to take this hard. More than anything, he wished he could be with Gibbs in a few hours when he was alerted to the filmmaker's latest masterpiece. It would be an elegant little piece, sad yet oddly sweet. It was a gift from the filmmaker to the world- a departure from the spine-tingling thrillers he produced with his female subjects.

He covered McGee in leaves and looked up at the sky. He saw a flash of lightning and then another. A roll of thunder followed. For a second, he was worried about leaving his new friend in the elements, but then he thought that McGee probably wouldn't mind.

….

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I hope this story still holds your attention. It won't be long. Two more chapters and we're done. Let me know what you think and have a happy Labor Day holiday. Esperanza will return as soon as I figure out the final battle. Sheila

The Film

Chapter 2

Gibbs jogged through the pouring rain without even pulling up his hood. He hadn't stopped for coffee because there wasn't time and because his hands were shaking too much to hold it. After many years of solitude, he'd finally allowed himself a family, and a monster had just stolen his youngest. Fornell had told him over the phone and his chest seized with rage. For minutes after the call, he stood in his bedroom with the phone in his hand, unable to call anyone.

He was in his car on his way to the FBI building when Fornell called him and told him to meet him at NCIS. Gibbs was grateful for the courtesy. Fornell could've claimed jurisdiction, and he would've had to live out this nightmare in an unfamiliar space.

He shook his wet head in the elevator, and took off his jacket. He took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to try and regain some control. He needed to be a soulless son of a bitch to get through this. The door dinged and he strode toward the bullpen, wincing as he saw the team already standing around in a daze. Going to the FBI building first had killed his advantage. Getting to NCIS late left him no time to compose himself.

The stood there aimlessly as if unfamiliar with chairs; Ducky and Ziva stood next to each other while Tony paced. He spotted Gibbs and went striding toward him. "What's the emergency? It's gotta' be the filmmaker 'cause Fornell is up with the director. He wouldn't tell us a damn thing."

Gibbs looked up the stairs and spotted Fornell and Vance on the railing. "MTAC?"

Vance nodded.

"I need to speak to my team."

Both men nodded and retreated to Vance's office.

Ziva lifted her phone. "McGee isn't responding to calls or texts. I called his landlord to go knock on his door, but he hasn't called me back."

Tony shook his head. "Probie's really having an off week. Don't worry. I'll get him back on track, Boss."

Gibbs sighed. "You're not going to find McGee at his apartment."

Ducky cocked his head, watching Gibbs closely. "Jethro?"

Gibbs worked his mouth before speaking. "Best I can figure is that he did a little volunteer work yesterday after he left here. He was feeling bad about what happened."

"He should. He filed a complaint against you and screwed you out of a month's pay," DiNozzo growled.

"You don't know anything, Tony. So just shut up and listen. Tim had a theory about the filmmaker, and I'm betting he went to check it out."

Ziva shook her head. "You're guessing? What's going on?"

"The filmmaker sent out a new movie with a new victim. Movie's called McGee."

Ziva drew in breath and covered her mouth. Tony froze. "What are you saying, Boss?"

"He found the filmmaker although it's probably more accurate to say the filmmaker found him. I haven't seen it. I'm going up to MTAC now. Tobias says it's bad. You all need to know, but you don't all need to see it. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't… though I could use your help, Duck."

"Of course."

"What did he do to Probie?" Tony whispered.

Gibbs scrubbed the rain off his head. "I'm gonna' go find out. Stay here. Please don't call Abby."

"We're not calling Abby, but we're going up there with you." Ziva's eyes were hard as she stiffly walked past all of them and headed up the stairs. Ducky sighed and followed her.

Gibbs looked at Tony and said softly. "I know how much you loved him."

Tony shook his head slowly. "Not again. It's a bad dream, right?"

Gibbs shook his head and patted Tony's cheek gently before heading for the stairs. Tony rubbed at his eyes, swallowed hard, and went after him.

…..

No one in MTAC spoke after the film was shown. Ziva sat with her knees pulled her to chest, tightly hugging herself. Tony stood off to the side, his shaky fingers stroking his mouth, and Gibbs stood like a statue staring at the screen. Fornell stood up. "There isn't going to be a good time for this, but I've seen it three times and I have notes. We need to analyze what's on this frickin' snuff film. McGee found this bastard and we have to figure out how he did it."

"Did you find a botanist? I told you yesterday that McGee said we needed a botanist."

"I got an egghead from Georgetown on his way down here now. What did you see, Ducky? Was he dead at the end?"

Ducky was polishing his glasses, hands trembling. "I need to study it more closely. I didn't see an extreme change in pallor. He was clearly in agony…it's hard to know more just yet."

"But the filmmaker was more gentle with him than he'd been with his women victims."

"That looked gentle to you, Tobias?"

Fornell met his eyes. "Sorry Jethro, but you know I'm right."

Ducky nodded. "He wasn't as brutal as he was with his female victims. He wasn't acting out of pure rage. He seemed much more concerned about the film than the act of violence this time."

"I noticed that. I also think I overestimated his interest in my daughter."

Gibbs looked up. "He didn't push very hard to get McGee to turn on her."

"He filmed Emily as a distraction for me. He had no real interest in her as a victim."

"I agree," said Ducky. "He's a manipulator."

Ziva stood. "There's a moment…Tim is drifting off, and the filmmaker says that he can't post the movie without a final act. Tim offers him an ending."

Tony nodded. "Probie knew that the film would have clues. He knew it was important to help the bastard finish it so it would be posted."

"It makes me sick that he was forced to participate in this."

Tony worried his lip. "Me too."

"That's good," Gibbs nodded. "Tim was playing his own game. Let's remember that as we look over the images. He was trying to send us information."

"What's the deal with the botany?"

"Before he went home yesterday, he said that we needed a botanist. It was about the moss. He thought that moss would be found at elevations higher than those at Sky Meadows. He said he'd seen moss like that closer to the Alleghanies."

"He thinks that the filmmaker is killing elsewhere and dropping the bodies at Sky Meadows."

Fornell nodded. "It makes sense. We've speculated the same because we've never found his killing grounds at Sky Meadows."

Tony nodded slowly. "Probie would notice the moss."

Gibbs smiled softly. "He said he plays a survival game when he hikes."

"I know all about it. I went hiking with him once and his little library of reference materials. I had to take pictures of the plants he identified. Geekiest thing I've ever done. I told him that was last time I was ever going on a Geek adventure…" His voice caught and he looked away as he whispered, "I'd do it again in a minute."

Fornell's phone rang and he planted it on his ear. Everything stopped as they waited for him to finish. Finally, he turned to them. "They found his car at Sky Meadow."

"That's not where he went yesterday. I can feel it," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, but he drops all his bodies at Sky Meadows."

"They haven't found him?"

"It's 3:30 a.m. and still raining like cats and dogs. They couldn't find a beached whale under these conditions until light comes. When is that rain going to stop?" Fornell grabbed his phone and started telling someone to get him a weather report.

Vance stood. "I'm sorry, Jethro. Makes no sense to have you on this case. You're as dangerous as the filmmaker right now, but I'm not going to wrestle with you about it. This is yours but you gotta' be smart. This is a bad business and I want this son of a bitch as bad as I've ever wanted anyone. The agency's resources belong to you. Balboa and his team will be in your bullpen in 30 minutes. Hell, I'd grab a slicker and walk the forest myself if I thought it would do any good. I want you checking in with me every few hours. Understood?"

"Leon, can we keep a lid on this for the time being? There are certain people…"

"I'll try. I assume we're talking about Ms. Scuito."

Gibbs nodded.

Vance turned to leave, squeezing DiNozzo's shoulder as he passed him on the stairs. At the top, an analyst appeared. "Got a Dr. Goodnature downstairs. Says he studies plants."

"We'll be with him in a moment."

Gibbs turned to the room. "Tony, I need you and Ziva to work with him, and see if we can't pinpoint where this happened. Let's see if McGee was right. I are going to go with Fornell to Sky Meadows."

Tony shook his head. "We should be there too, Boss. If you find McGee…"

Gibbs put up a hand. "Listen to me. We're going to Sky Meadows because this bastard's pattern is to drop his victims there, but understand this, McGee was not kil-attacked there. McGee was right about the filmmaker killing his victims elsewhere, and he was not at Sky Meadows when this happened. I can feel it in my gut. I need you to work with this guy and figure out where Tim went yesterday. That's where we're going to find this animal. He sacrificed everything to give us these clues, and we're not going to waste them."

Ziva nodded. "We'll figure it out, Gibbs."

…..

The rain pounded on the windshield of the SUV as the headlights illuminated men and women in rain gear working the forest with flashlights.

"They'll stomp all over the forensics evidence."

Fornell looked at him. "The rain already killed the forensics."

"What time is it?"

Fornell looked at his dash. "5:15 a.m."

"Should be dawn in an hour. When is the rain going to stop?"

"Supposed to rain all day. Remnants of tropical storm Ernest."

"Damn!" Gibbs slapped the dashboard.

The two men lapsed back into silence. Finally, Tobias picked up the coffee Gibbs refused to drink. "Two days after the Emily video, I had a behavior analyst come to me with a profile. He said the filmmaker was playing a game with me. Said he wasn't treating Emily as a serious target. I didn't believe him. The rage in my gut was too toxic. I wasted valuable time thinking this asshole wanted my kid."

"He got close enough to film her bathing. Pretty damn powerful distraction, if you ask me. I couldn't see it any clearer than you could. He played us all."

"Why am I drinking your coffee? You usually mainline this stuff."

He winced. "I let all of us get too tired. Threw a cup of coffee at McGee yesterday morning when I found him asleep."

"Damn! I thought the kid looked shell shocked when I came in, but I had no idea."

Gibbs sighed. "He didn't even get mad. Apologized to me with coffee dripping off his chin. I couldn't stomach myself so I had to report me to Vance. Had to show him that bad behavior has to have consequences…even when it's the boss. Kid was mortified. I think he would've preferred I threw another hot beverage at him. I can't believe I lost control like that."

"You once told me that McGee's dad was an admiral. You ever met an admiral who wasn't a mean son of a bitch? My guess is McGee has been in boot camp since the day he could walk."

"He never talked about his dad much, but he's always been able to endure whatever I or DiNozzo threw at him, and I know he had to have gotten that kind of courage from personal experience. He looks soft but he's…as tough as they come. God, I just realized I'm going to have to call the admiral."

"This is going to be hard, Jethro."

He shook his head. "You have no idea. We all relied on him, and it had nothing to do with his computer skills. How many people in law enforcement can genuinely be described as sweet? …I just don't have words for this."

Someone banged on Fornell's window and he opened it. The rain ran off the brim the man's rain hat as he talked. "We're finished with this sector. Going to start again 200 meters up the road. You said he always drops within a 100 meters of the road?"

"Yup. How the cadets holding up out there?" Fornell asked as rain pelted his face.

The man gave him a craggy smile. "They ain't in the classroom, and that's all they care about."

Fornell gestured up at the sky. "We aren't going to get much help from the sun today."

"I know. Park service is sending a group in about 30 minutes. That should help."

"Alright now, I'm going to say good-bye now. I'm getting all wet here."

The man laughed. "I knew there was going to be an upside to this assignment."

Fornell closed the window. "This could take the whole day."

"I'm not doing anything here. Ducky and Jimmy can wait here with the bus. I want to find his killing grounds."

"Alright, let's go."

….

The botanist wasn't used to images of violence especially when viewed on a screen the size of the one in MTAC. He threw up three times in the first hour. MTAC personnel watched him nervously as the equipment was delicate, but Tony, despite his frustration, stayed next to him the whole time with a wastebasket gently urging him on.

Finally Dr. Goodnature found his legs, and started working the video. Ziva sat nearby with his laptop, and took notes for him. He took his time, and asked to see the videos of the women as well. For almost four hours he studied video, consulted databases, and took notes. Finally, he got up from where he was crouching in front of the big screen. "I have some thoughts for you."

Ziva and Tony sat down.

The lanky professor sighed. "I don't think these murders happened at Sky Meadows."

Tony nodded. "Say more."

"The audio is really clear. You don't hearing droning in the background."

"I don't understand."

"Sky Meadows is less than forty miles from Reagan National Airport, and lies directly beneath the route they use for runway approach. Whenever I'm at Sky Meadows, I can hear the jets as they drop to a lower altitude. It's not loud, but there's a faint buzzing in the air every 10 to 15 minutes. Bugs the hell out of me. There's an environmental group working on this issue. They're claiming that the noise pollution interrupts the intention of a wilderness area. I've been working with them on a possible lawsuit."

Ziva stared at Tony, mouth open. "Why didn't we know this?"

Tony shook his head sharply. "Because we needed a botanist or someone else who would notice city noises in a state park. Probie knew what we needed."

Goodnature hesitated. "Probie is the man in the first video?"

"Yeah, he's the one who thought the moss wasn't from Sky Meadows."

"About that. There is that kind of moss at Sky Meadows, but it is rare. He's right about it being much more prevalent at higher elevations, and it is pretty endemic in all of the videos you showed, but there is something more. In your…friend's video, the leaves are especially dry and colorful. Fall is approaching. At higher elevations, the leaves turn faster. The evolution of the leaves in the video suggests a park about a week ahead of Sky Meadows' autumnal progression. I think you are looking at a park closer to the Alleghany Mountains."

Ziva nodded to a tech. "Put up the state parks map."

Goodnature turned to them. "There are 5 parks fitting those altitude expectations within a four hour radius of Sky Meadows."

Tony nodded. "What about a two hour radius? Our timelines suggest that he films, kills, and dumps in a four-hour time frame. We're looking for something only two hours away from Sky Meadows."

"That would leave Shenandoah River state park."

Tony nodded. "That's gotta' be it."

Goodnature made a face. "I don't know."

"Why?"

"Shenandoah is about a fourth of the size of Sky Meadows, and it's always crowded. I don't see where he could've tortured and killed anyone without being noticed. Besides, this week was Alleghany Days. Place was overrun with tourists."

"That doesn't help. Are you sure, Dr. Goodnature?" Ziva asked.

He made a face. "Does it have to be a state park?"

"All the women were wearing hiking gear. Where else is there?"

"There's an old state park named Wolf Ridge that was closed down about five years ago. It sits right outside your 2-hour radius. They closed it down because it had some safety issues with steep drops and mudslides, and the DNR was low on funds. Every year, there are questions about what they are going to do with it, but after five years, the trails have become pretty eroded and such."

"So, it's closed. Why would people go there?"

"It has some great hiking. There's a nice ten-mile hike along the side of the mountain that looks out on the valley and it is just breathtaking. It's closed, but I go at least three times every summer. Always park my car at the gate and hike in. Lots of people do it. It's even recommended on at least two of the local hiking websites."

Ziva flashed eyes at Tony. "The filmmaker would have had the privacy to torture as long as he needed."

Tony slapped the man on the back. "Thanks Dr. Goodnature. You've been a tremendous help."

The man nodded as he gathered up his laptop. "I'm sorry about your friend. I think I would've really liked him. He could've joined our botany club. Could've gone hiking with us."

Tony nodded. "Everybody liked McGee."

He waited until the man was gone, and then he reached for Ziva, folding her into a hug as he whispered into her ear. "Gotta' keep reminding myself to breathe.

…..

Gibbs stood in her basement lab and watched the rain splash against the windows. He'd seen her black steel-toed boots run by, and he steeled himself for her entry. He closed his eyes as he heard her stomp the water off her boots as she entered her lab.

"Gibbs!"

He turned as she pulled off a clear plastic rain slicker decorated with black cats. She rushed into the next room and hung it up. "The radio said it's going to rain all day."

He stood silently while she turned on lights and machines. "I'm so glad you did what you did yesterday. I know it was hard and everything but it was the right thing, and I'm going to make you lunches all month because you lost your salary. Today is tuna salad on whole wheat. And you don't have to buy me any Caf-Pows either. More than anything else, I'm glad you made up with McGee. He thinks so much of you. He hates it when you're mad at him."

"Abs."

She stopped to look at him. "I tried calling him a million times last night and this morning. It's weird. You know how seriously he takes rule #3, but he's totally unreachable right now. I have a weird feeling about it in my tummy."

He stared at her, his blue eyes showing the weariness of a thousand years.

She grasped the steel counter with one hand. "The guy downstairs says McGee hasn't been here since yesterday, but you, Tony, Ziva, and Ducky showed up in the middle of the night. The only time Timmy is ever unreachable is when he's doing something for you. Is he doing something for you? Tell me he's doing something for you."

"Listen to me, Abs. It's going to be hard to take it all in, but McGee went out on his own yesterday, and…he found the filmmaker. Things went badly. The bastard posted a video about McGee last night and now we have to find him."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then her knees buckled and he got there before she hit the floor. He pulled her up and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry, Abs. The filmmaker…it was bad. We've got dozens of people searching Sky Meadows for his bod- for him."

"No!" She howled into his neck.

"I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I want to tell you to have hope, but I don't think it's realistic. It doesn't look good."

She was rocked with sobs, and he held on to her tightly. "I promise you we're going to find him and take good care of him, and we're going to catch the animal who did this and I'm going to…stop him."

For minutes, she clung to him, and then the sobs turned to hiccups and she pulled away. "You have work. You…have to go out and find him. Please Gibbs, bring him home."

"I need you to be okay, Abby."

Tony and Ziva appeared in the doorway. "Boss, I think we know where he kills."

Gibbs looked at Abby once more and she nodded at him. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "We're going to bring him home. I promise."

She pushed him away. "Go! Just go!"

…

He opened his mouth and welcomed the raindrops that hit his parched tongue. He stayed like this for a few moments as he tried to process his numb, almost dreamlike state. None of the previous pain was present nor did he feel panicked. It was like he was a rather disinterested observer on his own life.

His eyes fluttered open, and he winced as raindrops randomly hit his corneas. It was dark and cloudy, but it wasn't night. He turned his head slowly side to side but didn't see the filmmaker. Then he listened, and all he heard was the patter of rain on leaves. He lifted his head and saw the knife still buried in his gut. Some of the earlier fear started to filter through. He lay back again and his breath quickened as he considered his circumstances.

He swallowed hard and tried to yell, but the only thing that came out was a strange, croaking sound. He tried again but the croaking only progressed to a squealing noise. He stopped. His mouth was dry and his vocal cords swollen from the filmmaker's torture. He lifted his head again to try and survey his surroundings, and something surprising happened. He felt movement in his arms. The rain had soaked the ground, and the knife pinning his arms couldn't hold. He tugged, groaning as his stiff limbs protested, and then all of sudden, his arms pulled free, dislodging the knife and flipping it onto the ground beside his face.

His cuffed hands settled on his torso, and he considered the situation with the knife in his gut. On the one hand, he couldn't move with it stuck in his gut, but pulling it could put him into shock and kill him. It would also reopen the bleed. In his current circumstances, the knife was essentially keeping him from bleeding out.

He closed his eyes and tried to reason it through. Gibbs would know what to do. Nobody was built to survive a situation like this better than he was. Gibbs would make the choice that would give him the best fighting chance. McGee closed his eyes as he came to the realization of what that choice had to be. He was fuzzy and weak, but he had enough cognition left to plan, and planning was something that McGee did better than anyone else.

When he was ready, he swung his cuffed hands above his head again, and started digging in the mud. Then he pulled his hands back onto his torso depositing the mud. He did it over and over until he had a mound of it in front of the knife. The next part of his plan scared him, but he had no choice if he wanted mobility.

Taking a deep breath, he settled his cuffed hands around the hilt of the buried knife. Touching it sent bolts of pain everywhere, and he moaned deeply. Then he closed his eyes, concentrated, and pulled up in one sharp movement.

He had no idea how long he was out, but the rain was still falling, and the pain was like a fire in his gut. He'd lost most of his earlier strength, and it took him minutes to remember the details of his plan. He remembered the mud on his torso, and he began pushing it over his abdomen. The pain was horrible, and he grayed out several times, but finally he was able to smooth his hands over the mud on his wound. He let his hands rest there as a means of holding the mud in place. He knew that sepsis was a certainty, but he would undoubtedly die faster if he left the wound open and bled to death.

He tried to contemplate another move, but the exertion of his actions drained all of his energy. The knife was out of his gut, but he barely had the strength to keep his mouth open to collect the rain. His head rolled to the side, and he watched leaves flinch as raindrops hit them. Rabbits could attack him now, and he could do little to stop them.

There was so sense wondering how Gibbs would handle this situation because Gibbs would never have been in this situation. He would've seen the filmmaker and his knife, and the bastard would be dead now. McGee realized that he was dying because he'd been foolish, and because he had few of the defensive skills the rest of his team had. It felt, in some ways, like his death was inevitable. Maybe it had been since the day he chose to play with the big boys without the same skills they had. Maybe he'd just been cheating death all these years. These were serious thoughts; thoughts he wished he'd fully considered years ago. Now it was too late, and he only hoped that his boss understood that what was happening to him now was his own fault and his fault alone.

…..

TBC

13


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: While there is no sex in this chapter, the writing here can best be described as angst porn. Read at your own risk and talk to me about it if you can. Sheila

The Film

Chapter 3

Tony drove as fast as he dared through the rain. Ziva gripped the dashboard tightly with one hand, her eyes focused on the windshield. Neither talked as they were both trying to hear Gibbs grunting on the phone with Fornell in the back of the truck. The search for McGee at Sky Meadows had gone into its sixth hour, and they were dreading the moment when Fornell confirmed their fears.

Gibbs turned off his phone, and they held their breath, but he said nothing. Tony looked over his shoulder. "Boss? What did he say? You still think we should be heading to Wolf Ridge."

"They haven't found him."

Ziva shook her head. "I know it's raining but it's been six hours. All of his victims have been found within 100 yards of the road. How does it take for them to cover the roads in that park?"

"They've covered it all. He's not there."

Tony slapped the steering wheel. "What does that mean?!"

"The storm's almost over. They're going to do a second sweep."

Ziva looked at Tony. "Gibbs, I heard you tell Fornell to send Ducky and Jimmy to the park we're visiting."

Gibbs sighed. "McGee isn't just another victim. You heard the filmmaker at the end of that video. He doesn't hate McGee; he felt almost an affinity with him. He hated the women, and when you hate something, you don't want to look at it anymore. You get it off your land as quickly as you can."

"He's in no hurry to get rid of McGee," Tony whispered.

"I'm only speculating, of course, but I don't think that he would be in such a hurry to get rid of McGee."

"Do you think he's alive, Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked out the window at the wet landscape. "No, I don't. You saw what that animal did to him. I don't see him surviving those kinds of wounds."

Ziva wiped moisture from the corners of her eyes. "The trails are going to be slick. We're going to have to be careful out there."

No one responded. They each slipped into a quiet place inside themselves where they could find the strength to get through this day.

…

He woke again when he heard twigs break. The rain wasn't falling any longer and the forest had become achingly still. When he opened his eyes, he saw the ground still glistening from the cleansing rain. There were still clouds overheard, but he saw a flash of light shine through, and it felt good to think he might see the sun once more before he was gone.

More twigs snapped, and McGee jerked his head up. The sounds were heavy, and he knew that no bears were in these woods. He lifted his stiff, cuffed hands out of the mud poultice in his abdomen, and searched for the knife he pulled out. He had to twist his torso to reach it, and he howled in anguish. He grabbed the knife and lay still again. Every movement was an event. The idea that he had a chance against the filmmaker if he returned was laughable.

He decided to hold the knife by the blade. If the filmmaker returned, he was going to throw the knife as Ziva taught him. He doubted he had the strength to make much impact, but he was determined to make this a sorry day for a serial killer.

The forest went quiet again, and he let the knife rest on his chest. He waited for another noise. With the next noise, he was going to have to force as much noise as possible out of his damaged vocals. There was always a chance that help could be coming, and he tried to tell himself that it was possible on the rain soaked trails of a long closed state park. Gibbs knew he was thinking about a park near the Allegheny Mountains, and he prayed that the team could sift through the possibilities and make the right choice.

There was rustling again in the bushes, and McGee gripped the blade of the knife and yelled, "Help" in as much voice as he could find. He was breathing hard as he waited for a response. Minutes ticked by and nothing happened, and just as he was ready to relax again, boots sounded and a man emerged from the brush.

McGee sucked in breath. It was starting all over again.

…

Tony parked at the barrier, and they piled out of the truck. Ziva looked up at the sky. "Rain's stopped. Sun is coming out."

"Thank God!" Tony laced up his hiking boots. "How far behind is Ducky?"

"They should be here in about twenty minutes."

Gibbs hooked an extra flashlight to his utility belt, stuck a knife in his waistband, and checked his Sig. "Let's go!"

They threaded themselves through a break in the fence, and went single file down the path.

….

McGee pulled his cuffed hands over his head, and threw with all his energy, yelling as he put everything left in him into it. Darkness took him and he fell back. Then there was a slap to his cheek, and his eyes rolled open again. The filmmaker stood over him, and pointed to the knife buried to the hilt in his bag. "I never expected that. You are full of surprises."

McGee remembered the other knife near his head, and he twisted again in an effort to grab it, but the filmmaker stepped on his cuffed hands, and reached down, pulling it from his hands. "No, that's enough. Gotta' slow you down, friend. I honestly thought I was just going to say good-bye to you today. I had no idea that you had so much life left in you. That'll teach me to leave someone without confirming their end."

Tim lay back, breathing hard. "I won't play. I won't film. This is over now."

The filmmaker smiled. "But it's so perfect. The second good-bye. Gibbs and Fornell have had almost twenty-four hours to find you. They can choke on their ineptitude. It's too brilliant. We have to film."

He pulled out the tripod again and then the camera. "I was really pissed when you threw that knife. Thank God, you didn't harm the equipment."

McGee rolled his head to the side and waited. His last act would be to give the filmmaker as little satisfaction as possible.

The filmmaker looked down at him. "I know you don't want to play, but you have to make a choice. If you don't participate, I'm going to take this knife you planted in my bag, and I'm going to gut you slowly. They'll see you leave this life in the most exquisite agony imaginable. It will be very painful for everyone who watches it, and I know all your team will see this. Choice number two is simple. You talk to the camera. You tell Gibbs and Fornell how disappointed you are that they haven't found you. You tell them how alone and abandoned you feel. After that, I'll simply shoot you in the head. It's a quick and painless end. I'm giving you thirty seconds to choose."

McGee didn't react.

"I want an answer, McGee."

McGee turned his head to the filmmaker. "I have something to say to the camera. After that, you'll take my life however you choose. I won't make a deal with a monster."

The filmmaker stood back and focused the lens. "Talk."

McGee focused rheumy, exhausted eyes at the camera. "I screwed up, Boss. You taught me better than this, but I let my insecurities take over. None of this is on you. None of it. I had a good life and you were a good teacher. I just wish I'd been a better student. No regrets, Boss. No regrets."

"McGee, that's not what I was looking for."

"I don't care. I just…don't care."

The filmmaker took the bloodied knife and straddled McGee. "You give me no choice but to go low and slow. Your last minutes are going to be bad."

McGee looked up through the trees as the sun finally peaked through in all its glory. He blinked up at it, sure that this would be his last memory. Then he heard a distant shout and lifted his head. The filmmaker stepped back and waited. Then the shout came again.

"They're here," he whispered.

The filmmaker was looking around wildly.

"McGee!" His name was distinct now in the shouting.

McGee raised his head. "I'm here!" It was hoarse and lacked volume, but he gave it what he could.

The filmmaker was moving and McGee realized that he only had to drive the knife in once and he was gone. In desperation, he rolled onto his side and tried to crawl. The filmmaker was cursing, but he wasn't on top of him, and when McGee lifted his head to check, he saw the man half sliding and half running down the hill, his bag in tow.

McGee heard his name again on the trail above him and he croaked a reply. He tried again and again, but all of his sound was gone. Above him, he could make out their voices. Tony was the one yelling, "McGee" over and over. Then he heard Ziva say, "Be careful. It's so slippery."

He opened his mouth again, and emitted a faint squeal. It was as if they were right on top of him, but they couldn't hear him. He used his cuffed hands, raking them through the leaves, and he swung a leg in hopes of finding a tree, but his team kept walking, and the calls for him got fainter again.

For the first time since this started, he let out a sob. He'd cried from the physical pain, but this was something wholly different. This was a pain that he felt in his very soul. He buried his face in the leaves and begged God for the chance to not die alone. Hiccups caught him and added to the tremendous pain in his gut. The voices were gone now, and he was alone in his final moments, crying like a little boy.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Tim?"

He startled at the touch certain it was the filmmaker again.

"Shhh! It's me, Tim."

He moaned in recognition. "He was here. He was just here."

"Where!?" Gibbs straightened up.

"Down the hill…Hurry. Maybe two minutes…ahead."

Gibbs was on his feet. "Tony! Ziva!"

His team came sliding off the wet path, guns drawn. Gibbs pointed urgently. "You have ten minutes! If you can't catch him, get back here! Tim's alive!"

Tony twisted his body. "Probie!"

Tim tried to lift his head, but suddenly, he was far too tired to move. Ziva started to move toward McGee, but Tony caught her by the arm. "Let's get the bastard, Ninja."

Together, they started running down the hill. Gibbs watched for a moment, his gun in hand, and then he knelt next to McGee. "It's so good to see you, Tim. I gotta' turn you over."

Tim opened his mouth in a silent scream when Gibbs turned him on his back and then his eyes closed. Gibbs touched his face. "Tim? Tim?"

He felt for McGee's carotid artery, and was relieved to find a faint pulse. He leaned close to his face. "McGee, you're going to stay with me. You hear? You stay with us! We need you!"

He stood up, feeling lightheaded, and leaned against a tree. He hit a number on his cell. "It's me. Listen. We found him and the filmmaker is here. Ziva and Tony are chasing him. Bring every LEO, park ranger, and federal agent in a 100 miles radius to Wolf Ridge State Park now!…No, you're wrong, Tobias. The boy is alive, but I'm going to need a 'copter. Can't think where the nearest hospital is…It's bad. Please hurry, Tobias. He needs help bad. Call Vance for me."

He blew out breath and shuddered as he ended the call. Then he hit another number. "Duck, are you and Jimmy at the park yet? He's alive. God help me but he made it…but he's bad, real bad…Need you to get an ambulance….We're about a mile in. Trails are bad. Need a backboard…Can't let the two of you do that. The filmmaker is nearby. The two of you got to stay in the bus until we get to you…He's unconscious now. What do I do, Duck?...Okay, check with you in a few minutes."

He took off his coat and covered McGee's torso. He spotted a log and rolled it over, pulling McGee's legs up and elevating them on it. He worried his mouth as he tried to think of what else he could do for him. Then he heard a noise behind him and he trained his gun on the landscape. He lowered it when he saw Ziva and Tony making their way back up the hill. "Did you find him!?"

Ziva shook her head as she pulled herself up by tree trunks and branches. "Nothing in any direction. He clearly knows this area very well."

Tony stumbled up and dropped next to McGee. "Hey probie, wake up."

Surprisingly, Tim's eyes opened. "Tony."

"God, it's good to see you alive. You scared the hell out of us."

McGee looked around and found Gibbs. "Hurt bad, boss…I don't think I'm going to make it."

He shook his head. "You hang in there, Tim. We don't give up on this team. You just relax because we have so much help coming, it's going to make your head spin."

McGee started panting softly. "I'll try."

Tony leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "You can do it. I love you, you know."

Ziva was on the other side stroking his face. "Ani ohevet ot'cha, my brother. Ani ohevet ot'cha."

"She's telling you that you have mustard on your face, Probie."

She wiped the moisture from her eyes. "I'm telling him how much I love him."

"Tony, Ziva, I need you to get the backboard from the bus. It's the one thing we can do to make this happen faster."

Tony looked around blinking as if trying to consider his options, but the need to do something real won out, and he leaned over Tim again. "Ziva and I are going for help. We need you to be bright eyed when we get back. Okay?"

Tim nodded slowly. Ziva pulled Tony to his feet. "We'll be back, my brother."

"You got this, Boss?"

Gibbs waved his sig at him, and the two turned and started jogging up the trail. Gibbs sat down beside McGee and stroked his hair. "They'll run 10 miles up that hill for you if necessary. They love you. We're more than just a team, Tim. We're a family. And you gotta' understand that this family doesn't work without its youngest member."

McGee's eyes were focused on him. "I have to de-brief, Boss. You need to know what I saw."

Gibbs shook his head sharply. "You should rest."

"You know I have to do this now…I don't have much time left."

"Tim-"

"I don't think this is in my hands anymore so you gotta' listen to me."

He nodded slowly. "Okay, Tim."

"He's big- 6 feet 2, maybe 3 inches. 240 to 260 pounds. Heavy beard. Caucasian. Baseball cap. He's probably in his late 50's. Face was red, heavily veined. Probably a heavy drinker. I think he is former military- something about the way he walked, the way he carried himself…" McGee closed his eyes.

"Tim?"

"Just resting…It's his camera. His camera is how you're going to catch him. Digital. Very expensive…Nikon D800…probably $3,000. I'm thinking that only 50-100 were old in the area over the last year. It's just a geek guess. He touched it like it was his baby. Probably bought it in person. Maybe he shopped it for months. Had to be a big purchase for him…his clothes told me he lives frugally…We're going to find him on an electronics store videotape. There will be clerks who remember the older, bearded guy who hung around for hours on more than one occasion before he made a decision…I really thought about this, Boss. Had some time…needed a distraction from the fear…That's how you're…going to find him."

Gibbs patted his cheek. "That's good work, Tim. Excellent profile. I'm going to get it to Fornell and we're going to bag this bastard."

He didn't get a response so he patted his cheek again. "Tim?"

McGee was limp to his touch. He searched frantically for his carotid artery again, and this time it was harder to find a pulse. Emotion swelled in his throat and he leaned over McGee's face. "Please Tim!...Oh God, please keep breathing…Don't break my heart."

…

The pain in Tony's side was deep as he struggled up the slippery paths of Wolf Ridge. He was red in the face and breathing like a bull, but he didn't slow. Ziva was behind him, and the only concession he made to his progress was to look back at her occasionally. The filmmaker was out there, and they were all still at risk. He heard a noise in the path up ahead and he stopped, pulling out his sig. "Federal agents! Freeze!"

"Don't shoot, Anthony!"

"Ducky!" Tony moved forward, his gun still trained on the voice, Ziva pulling up the rear.

He caught sight of Ducky and Jimmy on the path ahead. Jimmy was loaded down with bags, and the two of them were lugging a backboard. Ducky waved an ancient revolver at him. "It's just us."

Tony blinked. "What the hell, Ducky?! Where did you get that?"

"I keep it for emergencies," Ducky said as he held the gun up.

"Did you cock that thing?!"

Ducky looked at it with surprise. "I guess I did when you shouted. Must've been instinct."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Ziva, disarm him please."

She slinked past Tony and gently captured Ducky's arm, sliding up to his wrist and slipping the gun out of his hand.

"Boss told you to stay with the bus."

"Timothy needs us."

"The filmmaker could've killed you!" Ziva scolded.

"Okay. It is what it is. I gotta' think." Tony closed his eyes. "Ziva, I need you to go back to the bus. Help is going to be here any minute. You need to lead them in. Ducky- you, Palmer, and I need to get back to McGee. He's about half a mile down the trail."

"Tony-"

He put up a hand. "I know, Ziva, but this is what we gotta' do. Palmer and I can carry him out on the backboard. We don't have time to argue."

She nodded reluctantly and turned to go.

"Ziva! Keep alert. That monster could be anywhere."

She tossed her head at him, giving him a look, and then took off at a dead run.

…

Holding the front of the backboard under one arm and pulling Ducky along on the other, Tony pulled them off the trail and down the hill toward Gibbs who was standing next to McGee's still form. Tony fell when he got to him, exhaustion evident as he wheezed oxygen in and out of his mouth. Ducky leaned over as he caught his breath. He looked up, "Jethro?"

He shook his head. "He's unconscious. I can barely find a pulse."

"Jimmy!" Ducky reached for his bag, and Palmer handed it to him as he maneuvered on the other side of McGee.

Palmer pulled off the coat on his torso and caught sight of the mud poultice. "What happened here?!"

"It's an old indigenous remedy for clotting. Timothy never forgets a detail." Ducky leaned over his face checking his pupils. He looked up at Gibbs. "I think he's comatose. We don't have much time. He needs help now."

Gibbs looked up at the path. "It'll take us at least 30 minutes to get him to an ambulance."

Sweat beading his brow, Tony followed his eyes. "We can do it, Boss."

Gibbs and Ducky exchanged looks, and they could all feel the sense of futility in the gesture.

Suddenly, Palmer jumped to his feet. "Do you hear that?!"

Everyone froze. The sound of a helicopter was distinct in the background. Tony pumped his fist at the sky as it drew closer. "Yes!"

Gibbs shook his head. "They probably can't see us through the trees, and we have no way of communicating with them."

As if on cue, his phone went off and he answered it. "…Good work, Ziva! You're getting a raise for this…Got it!"

He pocketed the phone. "Ziva is in communication with them. The 'copter is going to land in a clearing about 500 meters to the west of us."

Tony shouted at the sky. "I love you, Ziva!"

"Worst kept secret in the agency," Palmer muttered.

"What?!" Tony's eyes went wide.

"What? Huh? I didn't say anything," Palmer said as he scrambled for the backboard.

Tony positioned himself at McGee's head while Gibbs took his waist and Palmer took his legs. On a count of three, they lifted him in, and Palmer began quickly belting restraints. Tony cradled Tim's head gently and whispered urgently. "Stay with us. Please Tim. I need you. I need my probie. Please."

"Tony, it's time."

Tony nodded and together they lifted and started moving him down the hill toward the deafening roar of a landing helicopter.

…

Ziva sat on the cheap, vinyl couch in the waiting room, streaks of mud on her face and her hair in tangles. She was stroking Tony's hair, his head in her lap. The mud was crusted in his hair and on his face, but neither of them seemed to notice; not anymore than they noticed the intimacy of their current circumstances. They were so physically and emotionally exhausted, they had little awareness of anything other than their fear. Jimmy and Ducky sat across from them, and it took all of Palmer's energy to keep from prattling on endlessly- chatter being his refuge when anxious.

Abby was the surprise. Instead of becoming paralyzed, she became a dynamo of resourcefulness, moving about frantically getting coffee and blankets for them; help that they universally ignored. That didn't slow her, and she darted in and out of the waiting room with plans to order sandwiches and to get them clean clothes.

The elevator opened and Gibbs looked up to see Fornell coming out of it. He jumped up to meet him. Fornell handed him a coffee. "Do you know anything?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Are you working on the description he gave and the information about the digital camera?"

"I got 20 agents scouring electronics stores as we speak. Nikon gave us a list of all the retailers in a 200-mile radius. That was a remarkable amount of detail he compiled. Amazing really, under the circumstances."

"You should've seen him, Tobias."

"I did," he said softly. He pulled up an IPad and keyed up a video. "He put it up an hour ago. It's called 'McGee Interrupted'."

Gibbs watched silently as the filmmaker told McGee matter of factly how he was going to die, and then tried to manipulate McGee into blaming Fornell and Gibbs. He watched as McGee refused to participate and prepared to die."

"The kid blames himself for what happened. He was wrong to go anywhere without backup, but he did a remarkable job of finding a serial killer when a whole team of FBI agents haven't been able to get close in two years. If he comes out of this, I'm going to do everything in my power to steal him from you."

"I hope to hell you have the opportunity to try 'cause I can't wait to watch you fail."

Tobias chuckled. "Okay."

"I want in on this. When you get close, I want to know. I want to be there."

"I wouldn't deny you the pleasure."

A doctor came into the room. "I'm looking for a Anthony DiNozzo."

Tony lifted his head off Ziva's lap. "What's going on?"

"We need to make a decision Special Agent McGee's care. Since he isn't conscious, we use his proxy. Had your agency fax it over for us. He named you."

"What? No!"

"It says here, 'Anthony DiNozzo because he knows me best'."

Tony shook his head. "What kind of decisions?"

"He needs surgery, Mr. DiNozzo, but he's not stabilized. I'd like to wait the night, but I don't know that he can last if we do. I've talked to four surgeons, and I only found one willing to take him into the OR."

Tony looked around. "Surely that means that surgery is not a good idea."

Ducky shook his head. "No, Tony. It's an issue of liability. They're worried he wouldn't make it through surgery, but that's all. They're not looking at whether or not having the surgery is a worse option than waiting. That's what you have to decide."

"I can't do this."

"He chose you, Tony."

Tony started pacing. "I need help here."

Gibbs sat down. "He trusted you. What does your gut say?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I don't know how to make this decision."

"What would McGee want you to do?" Ziva asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "What would Probie want?"

Abby spoke from the doorway. "He wants to live, Tony. That's what he wants."

"Obviously!" He turned on her sharply.

She didn't flinch. "Tim trusts science. Your gut isn't good enough here."

"What does that mean?"

She looked at the doctor. "I grew up around gambling. If you thought it was best to wait, you would've come in and told us that. It's the easiest course of action. You are asking us to decide because you know surgery is his best chance but it's risky. You need us to take the risk of that decision."

Gibbs nodded. "Abby's right, Tony."

Tony turned to the doctor. "Tell that surgeon he's operating on a very important man tonight."

…

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Long final chapter. Hope you like it. Now, it's back to the last two chapters of Esperanza. I always appreciate hearing from you. Sheila

The Film

Chapter 4

Gibbs came out of the hotel bathroom rubbing his head with a towel. The team was sprawled on the beds and in chairs eating breakfast off trays. It'd had been a long night and none of them had strung together more than 2 hours of sleep. Gibbs picked up a bagel and nodded at Ducky. "Good idea getting a room across from the hospital. Appreciate it."

Ducky nodded. "Timothy may be in critical condition, but it's essential that we still take care of ourselves."

There was a knock at the door and Gibbs opened it, letting in Fornell and Vance. Vance looked around the room. "Get another room and expense both of them. You've all been through a lot, and I know it's not over. How is McGee?"

Ducky sighed. "Critical. Lost a lot of blood but we're feeling quite hopeful. Abby is sitting with him."

Gibbs frowned at Fornell. "What do you know?"

"I think we found him. Guy named Percy Wells. 58 years old. Former Navy medic. Married three times. Last wife left him last year. Killings started two months later. He's living off the grid right now. Can't find a current address."

Tony buttoned his dress shirt. "How did you find him?"

Fornell stole a piece of bacon from Gibbs' plate. "The kid came through. One of the major electronics chains keeps all their video surveillance in a central location. 14 agents sat through the night going through them. We got a name a couple of hours ago."

"He's gotta' live near Wolf Ridge park."

"Oh yeah, we've descended on the local sheriff like an invading army. We're going to tear that area up."

Ziva stood. "We should be there. We should be doing something."

Fornell shrugged. "You can. I'll make space for whoever wants in, but this isn't about investigation anymore. It's a manhunt, and the people who do that better than any of us are already on it. My advice is that you stay close to McGee. I got a feeling."

"What?" Gibbs looked at him sharply.

"The profiler who told me that the filmmaker wasn't after my daughter also noted obsessive tendencies in her report."

Ducky raised eyebrows. "Obsessive personalities can't find peace when things are left undone. Timothy is an uncompleted project."

Fornell nodded. "It's a theory, but we don't know how pathological his obsessive compulsive tendencies are. Most likely, he's in hiding now."

Gibbs looked at Vance. "I want to beef up security on McGee."

"Done. I'm doubling the coverage he's already got."

Ducky's cell rang. He listened for a moment and then a smile grew on his face. He hung up. "Timothy's awake."

….

McGee's eyes darted about the room. Memories came in searing flashes. Safety had to be present in this room. It wasn't the forest, there was no filmmaker, and all indications were that he was being cared for, but he couldn't shake the feeling of panic buried within him.

"Timmy!" Came a familiar voice. His worried eyes found her in the doorway, all pigtails and smiles.

He tried to speak but he could only croak something unintelligible. He tried to lift his head, but she shook her head and came rushing. "Don't try to move. You got out of surgery only a few hours ago."

None of this lessened his agitation and he started pulling at the plastic tubing connected to his body. His heart monitor started beeping in alarm. Abby had her hands on his. "Stop, Tim! It's okay. You're okay."

"Not safe!" He croaked, breathing heavily.

A nurse trotted into the room, saw what he was doing to his heart monitor and IV, and joined Abby in trying to hold him still.

"No!" He screeched brokenly.

Then someone else was there, and McGee found himself staring into a pair of steely blue eyes. He immediately went limp.

"We're going to need restraints," said the nurse as she started for help.

"No!" McGee tensed again.

Gibbs turned to her. "Give me a few minutes with him. He's been through a lot, and restraints are only going to make it worse."

"His condition is still critical. He could really harm himself."

"I got it. I promise."

Abby leaned over him. "You need to understand that you're safe. We won't let anything happen to you."

McGee turned his eyes back to Gibbs and he nodded. "Abs, I need a few minutes with Tim alone."

"Okay." She leaned over and kissed his forehead and left.

Gibbs sat down beside McGee and leaned forward. "We know the name of the filmmaker, and it's only a matter of hours before we find him. We got agents at the door, the team is here, and we're not going anywhere."

McGee's breathe settled.

"Fornell's people identified him because of your descriptions. Your angle about his camera purchase was spot on. You did it, Tim, and I couldn't be more proud."

"I was stupid," he croaked.

Gibbs sighed. "I know you feel that way. You said so in the last movie he sent. You were careless, McGee, and if I could safely kick your butt for it right now, I would. But neither you nor I were in a good place that day, and if you kick yourself about it, I gotta' do the same. I treated you poorly, put you in a bad spot, and you felt like you had to prove something. We both have to forgive ourselves and we have to move on. Understand?"

McGee watched him closely. "You sure?"

"Yep. We don't have a choice. We work together and we need to trust ourselves and each other."

"You want me back?"

"You bet I do."

He closed his eyes and relaxed.

Gibbs took his hand and squeezed. "You need to get some rest. We're all going to take turns sitting with you."

Green eyes popped open once more. "The minute you catch him, Boss…"

"I'll be on the phone telling you all about it. I promise."

He nodded slowly, his eyes closing again. Abby came up behind Gibbs and rested her chin on his shoulder. "He's okay, right?"

"He's been through too much, Abs. It's going to be awhile before we really get him back."

…

He felt lightheaded when he walked, and it helped to trail his hand along the wall for support. He jerked it back when Tony turned his head, but Tony just smiled. "You're doing good, Tim. It's good to be back home, isn't it?"

McGee nodded. He still lost his voice easily. Doctors told him he strained vocal cords during the torture, and it would take a few months to find his normal voice again. Tony unlocked his door, and they went in. The apartment was fresh and clean, windows open. It was clear that they had been here to clean, and McGee felt a twinge at yet another intrusion in his life, but he didn't say anything. They had all been so kind, and he truly appreciated it.

Tony dropped into a couch. "I still wish you'd agreed to stay with me or Gibbs."

"Need my space," McGee said softly. He wandered into his bedroom and noted the flowers on the nightstand. He'd have to throw them after Tony left. Allergies. He opened the drawer to the nightstand and found his back up weapon. He picked it up, checked to see if it was loaded, and put it back. He came back into the main room. "Tell everyone thank you for everything."

"Anything for you, Probie."

McGee sighed. "I like you better when you're insulting me."

"I'm saving 'em up for when you're feeling better. I've got a list of permutations on your name that's going to make your head spin."

McGee grinned. "I can't wait."

"Let's go over the rotation for your detail."

He shook his head. "Tell them to go home."

"No way. Fornell's half-wits still haven't caught that asshole yet. We're not going to gamble on the chance that he comes back for you."

"I got my weapon. I wish he would."

"Tim, you have to stop blaming yourself for this. You had no idea you were stumbling on his killing grounds."

"Should've been more careful."

"Yup. And you should've had backup. Same thing happened to me. You remember when we were looking for that Marine Sergeant, and I got taken. I felt like a fool. Then Gibbs and Kate got me out of there, and I learned never to let that happen again. That's what is going to happen for you too."

McGee nodded. "Okay."

"Want to watch a movie?"

He shook his head. "I just want to be alone, please."

"I'd be happy to stay."

"Then I wouldn't be alone."

"I'm coming back tomorrow."

"I have no doubt. Bring a movie for me when you do, okay?"

Tony got up, came over, and gently hugged him. McGee stiffened. "Tony."

Tony held on patting his back. "We're all recovering, Tim, because we thought we lost you. I promise that I'll get my mojo back soon."

McGee wrestled his way out of Tony's grip. "Come on, man. You're like a girl these days."

After he left, McGee went into the bedroom and watched him exit and go to his car. He also noted the NCIS issue sedan parked right below his window. He turned around and surveyed the immaculate apartment, and couldn't, for the life of him, think of a single thing to do.

…..

Gibbs came trotting up to the sedans at the barrier to Wolf Ridge park. The agent leaned against the car stood up. "Sorry Gibbs, hate to drag you all the way out there, but you wanted me to call if he ever came back here."

Gibbs patted him on the shoulder. "No, you did right. What's his mood?"

"He just asked us to give him space. Told him that we had to keep him in eyesight. Rodriguez followed him down. We're trying not to be intrusive. It's clear he's just looking for answers."

"Thanks George. I'm sure he appreciates it." Gibbs slipped under the barrier.

"Gibbs, before you go down there, you should know that we run out of money for this detail in less than a week. We've done six weeks, and I put in for an extension, but I guess Sec Nav figures we've committed enough resources to this."

"It's okay. I don't think he would've tolerated it much longer."

Gibbs trotted down the trail. It was a dry trail today, but flashes of the rainy day six weeks earlier when they searched for McGee's dead body kept hitting as he moved. That day, it felt like they were on the trail for hours looking for him, but this time, it only took minutes. He caught up to Rodriguez and nodded. "Thanks Al. I'll take it from here. He and I are going to need some privacy."

McGee was up ahead crouching at the spot where Percy Wells had assaulted him with a knife. Off the trail twenty yards, yellow tape marked the spot where their struggle had left him with a hunting knife in his gut. McGee looked up when he heard Gibbs approach. When he saw him, he groaned and dropped his head. "They shouldn't have called you."

"If your evaluation is good, I'm expecting you back at work next week. I need to know how you're doing."

McGee stood up and watched him approach. "I was coming down the path like that. He crouched back here. Slow down. I was moving more slowly. He waited until I was maybe two feet away, and I remember he stepped into me with confidence. One, two, pivot, stab." McGee walked through Wells' movements.

"I saw him and reached for my gun. That was my first mistake, wasn't it?"

Gibbs nodded. "He was too close for your gun to be much good. You needed time and space to aim. You need to play a defensive game when they walk into you like that. You should've attacked the arm with the knife."

"Right." McGee backed up and walked through it again, pivoting, and stabbing with his hand. Gibbs sliced the stabbing arm with one hand, and used the other to pull McGee's head gently into his raised knee.

McGee backed up. "That could've made all the difference in the world. I need more physical combat training."

"Yeah, you do, but so does Tony. Ziva is the only one that trains on a regular basis. We'll set up a weekly session with a drill instructor I know at the yard."

McGee's eyes wandered down to the yellow tape marking the spot where he lay for 18 hours. Gibbs noted the dark circles still etched under his eyes, and how his lanky frame seemed positively bony.

"How are the nightmares?"

"Nightly."

"Dr. Cranston says you're coming in when scheduled."

Tim looked up. "What does else does she say?"

"Her sessions with you are confidential. She's assessing your fitness for duty, certainly, but I haven't seen that report yet."

"I don't want to disappoint you, Boss."

Gibbs frowned. "Why are we on that again?"

"I've seen the work of stone cold killers for years now. I move through crime scenes and I study them for clues, but I've learned not to feel…or not to feel strongly about the crime committed. I have to have a certain objectivity to perform my job. I can't get lost in what it must have been like for the victim in their last moments."

"But now you know what it's like for victims, particularly the ones who were tortured."

McGee looked up at the sky as if trying to find the sun through the thick foliage. "It's more than that. What happened to me is only half of what he did to the females he killed. They lay for hours in excruciating pain and fear while he planned further atrocities to them. They are dead now, but when I have my nightmares, I don't dream of my time with him as much as I dream about their time with him. You're going to think I'm crazy, but I feel like their souls are still alive and crying out for justice."

Gibbs let out a deep breath. "Yeah. That's pretty deep, Tim. I hope Cranston knows this."

"I'm not trying to do therapy with you, Boss. I'm telling you this to explain what I've done."

"I don't understand."

"Wells has killed again. Another woman was tortured to death, and he'll keep doing it until he's caught. Catching him is more important than my career. Catching him is worth going to jail."

Gibbs' eyes flashed. "What the hell are you talking about, McGee? There hasn't been another victim."

"She was found on a hiking trail in Lake Jackson Mounds State Park north of Tallahassee, Florida three days ago."

"We would know, McGee. A death in a state park doesn't mean it's Wells."

"Boss, I've been committing federal crimes in my time off. That's how I know."

Gibbs grabbed his arm. "You need to start making sense and you need to do it now!"

"A week after I got home, I called Fornell and I told him that his team should focus on Nikon downloads for that fancy camera of his. Companies often offer downloads to improve performance or to add features to the products we buy, but only 30% of people who buy electronics take advantage of these downloads. I figured Wells would be in that 30%. Told Fornell his cyber forensics people could maybe get warrant for the IP addresses of people who have downloaded software, and look for Wells that way. Called him back in a week and he told me his cyber guy said it was a no go."

Gibbs watched him closely. "But you knew differently."

"You've always let me play on the edges of protocol, and I knew it could work. Plus, I had time on my hands and enough expertise to do it."

"What did you do?"

"I hacked the IP addresses off the Nikon site of people download software for the model of camera that Wells used. I had 532 addresses and over the last three weeks, I have been eliminated them first by names and criminal records. Then I used facebook and other public venues to eliminate more. For 43 names, I illegally hacked into their lives to eliminate them as suspects. This week, I was down to three names, and then I found him. Pete Wilson. Ubiquitous name. The IP address is only six weeks old. It took me awhile to sift through all the other Pete Wilsons, but I found out this one has no credit history, no work history. All I know is that this Pete Wilson rents a cheap room in Tallahassee and regularly downloads software for his expensive Nikon camera. I also know that he's ex-military and that he's had three wives. I followed him onto a website for retired military."

Gibbs' breath quickened. "What do you know about the murder in Tallahassee?"

"Young female hiker. 23 years old. Stabbed 37 times. I'm sure he filmed it too, but he's afraid to post it. He's not ready for the FBI to descend on Tallahassee."

"And when were you going to tell me this?"

"I have a meeting scheduled with Vance and Fornell at 4 p.m. this afternoon. I'm going to give them the information and surrender myself as a result of my…activities. Part of my time here today was to figure how to tell you. I could get serious jail time for this, but I'll do it. I can't live with those poor women screaming in my head. It was worth it."

"Shut up, McGee. I just became your lawyer. You're not going in there alone."

…..

McGee sat in the bullpen quietly. He didn't take his old chair. He wasn't sure it was his anymore. Instead, he sat in a chair next to Gibbs' desk hands in his lap like a naughty schoolboy waiting for his punishment. The elevator opened, and he winced when he heard Ziva squeal his name. He stayed ramrod straight in his chair as she tackled him, DiNozzo on her heels. Finally, she stepped back. "I thought you weren't coming back until next week."

He had no idea how to deal with any questions.

"Why aren't you at your desk?"

He could always count on Tony to notice something was off.

"I…um not here officially."

"What does that mean?"

Gibbs had told him to keep his mouth shut, but he hadn't said anything about lying to his best friends. He leaned toward them. "I…uh, think I might have located Percy Wells."

"What?!"

McGee grimaced. "Please! Keep your voices down. I did it without authorization or warrants. Gibbs is upstairs with Fornell and Vance. They have to figure out what to do about it. I hacked illegally."

Tony pulled a chair up and leaned into McGee's face. "You really found the bastard?"

McGee nodded. "I think so."

"From your computer in your apartment? No agency support whatsoever?"

He nodded again.

"And they're pissing and moaning about authorizations and warrants?"

"Those things are important, Tony."

Ziva pulled up a chair on the other side of McGee. "We'll wait with you. We are in this together all the way."

Tony shook his head. "I don't know whether to applaud you or to spank you."

…

Fornell looked up at the screen in Vance's office at the murdered girl from Tallahassee. "It's almost the exact way his second victim was posed. Do we have eyes on him?"

"I sent a couple of agents to Tallahassee from the field office in Pensacola. He's not at his apartment, but they are sitting on it. His landlord looked at his photo and said that it looked like Pete Wilson." Vance was sitting with his hands tightly folded as if trying to contain emotion.

Fornell turned to Gibbs. "And you're telling me that the kid did this in his apartment by himself without a warrant?"

"Yup."

"What the hell!? We can't use it! We arrest him with this and it gets thrown out of court in a week."

"McGee came to you with this idea, Tobias."

"And my people said it couldn't be done."

"Well, they were wrong."

"Yeah, 'cause they couldn't figure out how to do it legally. Damn it, Jethro! What do you want me to do?!"

Vance looked directly at Gibbs. "Well first off, we figure out a way to get a killer off the streets without any more coloring outside the lines."

"Tobias, can you get a judge to sign off on a warrant to search those Nikon downloads so we can get this done properly?"

"You're suggesting that we start from scratch. Take McGee's idea and push it to its conclusion legally."

"You know it will bear fruit."

Tobias looked down at the table. "There's a judge who owes me. I'll call him. I'll put my cyber people on it and push them until it gets done."

"Just remember that McGee did it by himself in his bedroom in three weeks."

"We'll get it done in two days tops. Nobody is going to sleep until I see the same results McGee got. What about the guys from Pensacola? I don't want anything to be traced to any of us having prior knowledge of his whereabouts."

"We live by slightly different rules here. Homeland Security gives us the leeway to investigate former military personnel without probable cause. There won't be an investigative trail." Vance said.

Fornell looked at Gibbs. "What's going to happen to the kid? I know he went off the reservation but he's saving lives here. If you drop him, I'm showing up on his doorstop with chocolates and a corsage. Someone once told me that you don't waste good. I thought they knew what they were talking about. And if you make him carry federal charges and screw me out of a new employee, I'm going to contribute to his defense fund."

Vance looked at Gibbs. "Outlaws learn their behavior from other outlaws. I can't decide if further exposure to you is going to ruin him or if it's going to take an outlaw to control him."

Gibbs glared at Vance. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect him. Let's not forget that he can barely sleep three hours without dreaming about Wells driving a knife in his victims- not him. He's haunted by what Wells did to the women. He thinks their souls live in him now. Talk to him. You'll understand what I mean. He needs help. There are enough mitigating circumstances here to keep him out of a prison. I'll get him the best lawyer in D.C. if you pursue anything, Leon."

"So I'm the bad guy here, huh? I would've expected you to stay on top of his extra-curriculars, particularly with what you knew about his mental state. He and his computer skills are a menace without proper supervision."

Fornell stood. "Gentlemen, take another look at the dead girl on the screen. She will be the last victim this asshole ever gets because your geek can make magic with a computer. He may not have done the legal thing, but he did the right thing. Now you'll have to excuse me because I need to turn his good work into probable cause."

…

Tony sat at his desk crumpling up copy paper and throwing them at a wastepaper basket he placed on McGee's desk. Ziva sat at her desk, her chin on propped elbows and watched him as he missed throw after throw. It was 10 p.m. McGee was pulled upstairs three hours earlier. Dr. Rachel Cranston showed up two hours ago with an armful of files and a worried look on her face. She trotted past them with barely a glance.

They finally heard sounds on the stairs, and Tony jumped up, oblivious to the hundreds of paper balls littering the bullpen. Gibbs turned the corner but stopped short when he saw the devastation. Tony ignored his glare. "Well, what happened?!"

"They're ironing out the details." He said as he stepped around the mountain of paper, and ran an arm across his desk dislodging at least fifty more. "If you think you're leaving this for the maintenance guys, then you need more help than McGee."

Ziva cocked her head. "What does it mean that you are 'ironing details'? What is that?"

"He shouldn't have told you anything."

"Well he did, Gibbs!" The Israeli was on her feet, eyes blazing.

Gibbs sighed. "His posttraumatic stress has gotten in the way of good decision making. He's not ready to come back on Monday. He has more work to do before he can be cleared for duty. We'll try again in a month."

"No! We've waited long enough." Tony threw the last paper ball in his hand to the floor.

"Would you prefer we not factor in the PTSD and go straight to federal charges?"

"No," Ziva said softly. "Is he okay?"

"He needs to see Wells behind bars, and he'll do anything to see that happen. He's dealing with some powerful demons right now."

"We have to watch him more closely."

Gibbs nodded. "It doesn't matter if it annoys him. We're not moving in with him, but he needs some extra supervision right now."

Ziva nodded. "We're on it."

"What about Wells? Are we going to be a part of what's happening in Tallahassee?"

Gibbs shook his head. "We need a little distance from that right now. Fornell needs to retrace Tim's path legitimately."

They stopped talking when they heard someone coming down the steps and McGee rounded the corner. "You guys stayed."

"We're a team," Ziva said.

"Boss told you I'm out a bit longer?"

"Yeah."

"You guys are going to stalk me, aren't you?"

"Well, tomorrow night is going to be Hitchcock's 'The Man Who Knew Too Much' at your house. Ziva will bring the falafel. We'll take it day by day after that."

McGee winced. "Great."

….

Over the next few days, McGee endured Hitchcock and then Francis Ford Coppola night, and then there was bowling with Abby and Sister Rosita followed by an endless night of sanding a cherry wood rocker in the Gibbs' basement while the boss leaned against his bench, sipping bourbon and watching him like he was a suspect in interrogation.

They reacted whenever the phone rang, but Fornell never had the right news. They confirmed that Wells occupied the room, but he hadn't returned. Fornell's people made the same connections McGee did, and so Fornell's task force landed in Tallahassee legitimately, and now they were playing a waiting game; undercover agents patrolling area state parks and other hiking sites.

McGee's nightmares continued as he waited for Wells to finally be captured. He breathed in the hope that with his capture, the women in his head would find justice and he would find peace.

It was five a.m. on a Friday morning that he got the call that signaled an end to everything. "Special Agent McGee, my name is Agent Olson with the FBI. I have some good news. They picked up Wells in a park north of Tallahassee a couple of hours ago. He was just sitting a car waiting for the sun to come up if you can believe it."

McGee struggled to find his voice. "That's…great news."

"Fornell's got him in interrogation, and he called me 'cause he needs your help."

McGee felt the fear rise in his gut. The agent's voice was muffled and scratchy. "What does he need?"

"Apparently, Wells is intimating that he might've left a body at Wolf Ridge before he took you, and I'm there with a few of my guys, and we're going to start a search at first light. Fornell thinks you could maybe point us in a direction. We're interested in where he was going when he left you. Basically, we need you to point us in a direction. Fornell thinks there's a sweet spot in the park that we might've missed."

McGee struggled with his breath. "You need me to come down."

"I can't imagine it'll be easy for you. Hopefully, we'll only need you for a couple of hours. Do you think you could help?"

He sat up. He had to make the right decision. "It'll take me a few minutes to jump in the shower. I can be on the road in twenty. It's five now. I can be there by seven. That okay?"

"Yeah. We can make that work."

"Good. See you in a few."

The phone clicked and McGee felt the bile rise up in his throat. He lost it before he could get to the bathroom. Showering wasn't even a real thought. He pulled on jeans securing a backup weapon at his ankle and his piece in his holster. He put a knife in his back pocket, and closed his eyes to think. There wasn't a lot of time. It happened now or it wasn't going to happen at all. He paced for a moment. Timing was everything. With a cry of frustration, he slapped the wall and headed out the door.

…..

He waited until he was on the road for twenty minutes before he made the call he should've made earlier. "Boss, I heard from Wells."

"What!? Where are you?"

"He called posing as an FBI agent. Tried to disguise his voice, but I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. I knew it was him. He said that Wells was caught and Fornell was interrogating him. He wants me to meet him at Wolf Ridge to help find another body."

"Good instincts, Tim!"

"I'm on my way there now."

"No. You wait! We need a plan."

"He's expecting me within a certain time frame. If I don't show up when I said I would, he'll bolt. Think about how hard it's been to track him."

"You showing up without backup is not a plan, McGee!"

"I'm armed and I'm ready, and I know my team is going to be 20 minutes behind me. There's no time to surround the park, and he's already there so we can't ambush him. There is no other plan, is there? We can't just let him disappear again. You don't know what it's like…I only experienced…half…we have to protect…the women."

"Breathe, Tim! Take it slow. There's a rest stop ten minutes before Wolf Ridge. You stop there."

"We don't have time!"

"You're panicking."

"I can do this!"

"Courage is not your problem, Tim. You don't have anything to prove in that department, but you do need to show me that you're not going to pull another rogue move. You be at that rest stop, McGee!"

….

"Get your shirt off. I'm going to put my vest on you. It astounds me that you didn't think to bring your armor."

"We don't have much time," McGee whispered.

"Shut up and do what I say."

McGee stripped to his waist and extended his arms so Gibbs could strap on a vest. A car skidded hard to a stop next to them and Tony and Ziva tumbled out. Gibbs leaned over to McGee's ear as he belted his chest. "One of these days I'm going to talk to those two about how they keep showing up everywhere together."

"What the hell?!" Tony was red in the face. "We're not using him as bait. Bad idea!"

McGee turned his head. "It's the only way, Tony."

Gibbs tugged his t-shirt over McGee's head, but the shape of the Kevlar was etched clearly in the tight fabric so he turned to DiNozzo. "Give him your shirt. He needs something loose fitting."

Tony pulled his button down flannel over his head, and handed it to Gibbs. Ziva said nothing as she circled McGee, her eyes worried.

"I don't like it, Boss." Tony said as he paced.

Gibbs helped get the shirt over McGee's head. "Remember the meadow where the helicopter dropped. It was only about a quarter mile from the highway. I want you and Ziva to drive to that spot, breach the fence, and come in behind Wells. I'm going to be riding in the back of McGee's car. What are we doing for sound, Tim?"

McGee shakily pulled a mic from out of his pocket. "This was in the trunk of the sedan. There's only one transmitter. I can hide it under the Kevlar."

Tony walked up to him. "You don't have to do this, McGee."

"Yeah, I do." Tim said staying focused on his boss.

Gibbs nodded and looked into his eyes. "I'm waiting five minutes after you get out of the car and then I follow. You gotta' play the part of the innocent trotting down the path to help Fornell's people. He plans to ambush you. You'll be better prepared, but he's very good. He could come at you from any direction. He doesn't want to kill you right away. He needs his last film so whatever happens, you need to know that we are on your six. We will be on him before he hurts you. You understand?"

Eyes wide, he nodded. "We gotta' do this now."

"Yeah, we do." Gibbs patted his cheek and pushed him toward the sedan. "All right people, we gotta' put this animal away."

Tony cursed, grabbed Ziva's arm, and headed for the other car.

…

The leaves had lost their color. They were brown, fragile skeletons he crushed with every step he took down the path. He tried to move easily as if this was just another day and this was a simple task, but his heart pounded so hard it threatened to choke him and, despite the cool fall air, perspiration dotted his forehead. He knew he was jumpy. He couldn't help it. Wells could be coming at him from any direction. He had no advantage. He patted his holstered weapon for the hundredth time as he neared the heavy brush where he was first accosted.

The mic he'd installed was only one-way. He would talk but he couldn't hear. There'd been no time to plan, but it angered him that he'd never considered the possibility of such a move by Wells.

"Don't know where you are, Boss, but I don't see anything," he murmured. Then it dawned on him that the authentic move at this point was to call out for the fake Agent Olson.

"Hello! Agent Olson, I'm here. Where are you?!" He slowed at the spot where he'd been pulled off the path by Wells. Carefully, he turned in a circle. It was a cloudy morning, and even though the trees were bare and light came through, he wished he had a flashlight.

"Agent Olson! I'm here! Where are you!?"

"Up here, Agent McGee."

McGee spun around and looked up. Wells was perched on a tree branch pointing a rifle at him. McGee grabbed for his gun, but Wells was already pulling the trigger. A shot rang out, hitting McGee square in the chest, lifting him and throwing him against a large qak tree. McGee fell against it hard and then slumped to the ground.

…..

Gibbs heard the sharp report of a gunshot, he set off in a dead run.

…

Tony cursed and started running up the hilly terrain. Ziva signaled to him and veered to the right.

….

McGee's world was fading in and out of blackness as he struggled for consciousness. The only thing he was acutely aware of was that someone had set fire to his chest. He rolled off the tree and his hand found his gun. He waved it in front of him frantically, but he couldn't get his vision to clear.

Then a great weight landed on his torso and he howled as his hand was captured and his gun was pulled away. Wells pulled the shirt open violently and cursed at the Kevlar he found. "You brought backup, you little bitch!"

The weight disappeared and McGee struggled to sit up, but he was grabbed bodily and pulled to his feet: Wells holding him tightly to him, a beefy arm around his neck. McGee blinked wildly and the spots began to fade. Wells pulled him around like a ragdoll as he searched the area for the threat. Then McGee felt the cold steel of a gun barrel jammed in behind his ear.

"Wells, stand down! It's over! We got you!"

McGee saw Gibbs standing fifty feet away on the path, his sig trained on Wells. He could feel Wells' hot breath on his neck and he tried to clear his head of everything but what Gibbs might want of him.

"You must be Gibbs. I know your reputation so I guess these are my last moments. Say something to the kid before he dies with me."

Gibbs shook his head slowly. "Nobody dies today. We need to hear your story, Wells. You've got a lot to share with us."

"I'll talk. I'll tell you everything, but I get to kill McGee first. The little bitch cheated me out of an ending to my film."

"Not going to work. You kill him and you die. Then your story dies with you."

McGee slid his hand slowly along his jeans and found the hilt of his knife. He slowly gripped it.

"Gibbs, I got kills you don't know about. There were films I never made and bodies that were never found. You gonna' risk those stories just because of one skinny little agent who screams like a girl."

DiNozzo emerged from the bushes in a crouch, his gun steady. And Ziva approached from the back. Tony nodded at Gibbs. "Give me a signal, Boss. I'll take out his left eye. Ziva's got the right one."

"Stand down, DiNozzo. Wells and I are having a little chat."

McGee lifted the knife slowly out of his pants.

"We're not going to negotiate, Gibbs. I finish McGee and we talk."

"You kill him and you're dead!"

McGee couldn't risk much movement. He was only allowed one quick thrust as he buried the knife in Wells' thigh. Surprise was key. Wells reacted with instinct rather than thought. In that moment, he jerked back shooting off his gun, and then there were gunshots from all directions. A hole appeared on Well's forehead and another on the side of his neck, and he lurched forward, falling hard on top of McGee.

They all scrambled forward. Tony got to Wells first, and dragged him off McGee. There was blood everywhere. Ziva knelt next to McGee, and rolled him over. He was covered in blood and unconscious. At first, she searched frantically for a bullet hole, feeling around to the back of his head, and then settling on his chest.

"Check his vitals, Ziva!"

She searched frantically for his carotid and found nothing. "McGee! McGee!"

Gibbs dropped beside her, and leaned his ear against McGee's mouth. He looked up. "He's not breathing. Start CPR. I'll do compressions."

Wide eyed, she nodded and leaned over his face while Gibbs straddled his torso, locating the sternum, and began counting out compressions. He looked up, still in rhythm, and barked, "DiNozzo!"

Tony immediately understood what was needed. He grabbed his cell phone and called for help.

…..

The pain in his chest was horrific, and at first, he wondered if Wells was sitting on him. Opening his eyes to such a possibility scared him, but he had to know what was happening. His vision was blurry but it was clear that no one was sitting on his chest. The familiar sounds and smells of a hospital room emerged. He recognized the IV solutions, but the other machines were new to him, and when he lifted his head to better examine them, his chest muscles erupted in pain and he groaned.

An unlikely face appeared. "Hey McGee, you're awake! Good for you!"

McGee frowned. "Fornell. What happened? My team? Wells?"

"Wells is dead. And the team is on their way back from Wolf Ridge. They were on the road when I talked to them about an hour ago. Took most of the day to take care of the crime scene. They found his bag, his car, and his camera."

"What happened… to me?"

Fornell pointed to the leads attached to McGee's bare chest. "You went into cardiac arrest."

"He shot me."

"No, the Kevlar vest took the bullets, but it left a huge contusion on your chest. The heart muscle swelled, and then Wells fell on you and your heart arrested."

McGee looked away, blinking.

"Hey, it's okay. They did CPR and brought you back. Then for the second time in two months, you were airlifted out of Wolf Ridge park."

"He's dead."

Fornell nodded. "Very dead."

McGee turned back to him. "Why are you here?"

He smiled. "I want Jethro to think I'm trying to poach you. He knows I'd love to have you with the Bureau, but the truth is that I just wanted to say thank you. It took some pretty big cojones to go down there, knowing that animal wanted to hurt you. You took a lot of risks with this case. You've made mistakes, ones I hope you've learned from, but you also caught a really bad man. People aren't going to forget that."

"Thank…you."

"They got a look at his camera. There's of a video a woman we didn't know about. We think she might also be from Florida, and people have yet to find her body. We're working on identifying where she might have been. I'm going to call up that Botanist that helped with your rescue."

McGee closed his eyes as moisture gathered at the edges of his eyes.

"You know, you've experienced something that few law enforcement officers ever experience. You know the pain and terror of being a victim. You might see that as a hindrance, but I see it as a…gift of sorts. With a courage as rare as yours, I think you're going to use that understanding to fight even harder to catch these bastards. I think it's going to make you stronger. We need guys like you because there will always be guys like Wells."

"Tobias, you're starting to sound like a therapist."

Fornell turned and saw Gibbs, DiNozzo, and Ziva in the open doorway. "I was just telling the kid that if he ever wants to jump ship, I'm going to give him a raise and pay his monthly cable bill."

"He's not going anywhere," Tony said as he slipped past Gibbs and took McGee's hand. "How you doing, Probie?"

McGee looked up at him. "We stopped a real bad guy today."

"And Ziva made out with you extensively. Too bad you weren't awake for it." Tony yelped as she punched him in the arm. She pushed Tony back and leaned in to give McGee a kiss on the cheek.

McGee's eyes found Gibbs. "Thanks for having my six."

Gibbs allowed a rare smile. "It's what we do, Tim. It's what we do."

…

The End

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